


It Takes Two

by ReekyDumpling



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Cum Play, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Female Harry Potter, Fluff and Smut, Happy Ending, Harry Has Two Vaginas, Parseltongue Kink, Sexual Assault, Voldemort Has Two Penises
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-29
Updated: 2020-12-12
Packaged: 2021-03-09 23:01:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,663
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27784153
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ReekyDumpling/pseuds/ReekyDumpling
Summary: When Voldemort is found by Wormtail and informed of the events of Harriet's second year, his plans for her murder stall. He had never dared to dream he would find a female parselmouth. Somebody just like him.
Relationships: Harry Potter/Tom Riddle | Voldemort
Comments: 14
Kudos: 314





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> What was supposed to be a graveyard scene one-shot PWP developed plot and feelings... 
> 
> Speech in $ is parseltongue.

This was it. Harriet was going to die. No matter how much she had begged and pleaded with the gods she didn’t believe in, the thing in the cauldron had not drowned. 

Stood before her was a horrifying beast of a man. Tall, deathly pale, serpentine features, and gleaming red eyes. He stood naked as the day he was born, her eyes trying to look anywhere but at him. But, she couldn’t help but notice, in her peripheral vision the feature that was most unnatural of all. Instead of one cock, there were two. 

Judging by the manic grin on his face, he knew she had seen. Harriet closed her eyes, desperately thinking of a way out of this, but the statue holding her in place was rough and unyielding. Unless help came from somewhere, she was completely at his mercy. Death was so close, she could taste it. 

“Wormtail, my wand,” he hissed quietly. It sent shivers down her spine. 

She listened as the whimpering mess gave him his wand, repeating words of praise and thankfulness pathetically. The rat had not even been able to look at her in the eyes when he sliced her arm open, which was still bleeding profusely. 

“ _ Avada Kedavra. _ ” 

Harriet flinched violently, her eyes had still been closed, she had not expected the spell. Green light flashed before her eyelids. 

Thump. 

Silence. No sounds whatsoever. But she was breathing. Yes, in and out, still breathing. Can she move her body? A twitch of her fingers and toes tells her that she does still have control of her body. A breeze passed her face. Opening her eyes reluctantly, almost expecting to see death stood before her to lead her to the afterlife, she was stunned to find herself in the graveyard still. 

The thump she had heard must have been the crumpled figure at the naked man’s feet. Voldemort was checking over his body and caressing his face, familiarizing himself with a body he had not possessed for over a decade, uncaring of the murder he had just committed. 

In her futile attempts to get away, she strained and pushed against the stone holding her in place. It did not waver, the stone holding her chest and arms in place painfully was not going to move by any manual means. Her legs still had room to move and kick out, but what did that matter if she could not move her torso. 

“I have waited a long time to meet you, Harriet Potter,” his sibilant voice rang out, beginning his advancement to where she was held. Inhuman in his movements, gliding like a snake. 

Harriet couldn’t bear to look at him, she strained her body to be as far away from his as possible, bravery lost in the wind. Her actions were nothing more than a cower. She didn’t even dare to kick out her legs when he had arrived within touching distance. 

_ $So beautiful,$ _ Voldemort hissed in parseltongue. _ $Perfect.$ _

Voldemort's long fingers reached out to her face. Try as she might to strain away from him, eventually she had run out of distance and the back of his hand stroked gently down her cheek. 

What the hell was he doing? This was some kind of sick game. She would prefer it if he just killed her rather than taunting her with compliments. As if a man this monstrous would ever be capable of kindness. What he was saying was a trick, a game. Playing with his food before he ate it. Perhaps he is still the psychotic, charismatic, sixteen year old she had met in second year. However, now his evil was on both the inside and out. 

When his fingers did not relent in their caresses, she finally found her words, though they came out shaky, “Get off me!”. 

_ $Do not fear me, little one. I will take care of you,$ _ Voldemort answered in parseltongue. 

“Stop speaking to me like that, and do it already!” Harriet managed to make her voice sound slightly more confident this time. 

This waiting was driving her insane. Blood pouring from her arm, making her woozy. The maze exhausted her completely. She was wandless, at his mercy. Even Harriet could admit when she was beat. 

“Do what, little one? What would you like me to do?” 

“Kill me already!” 

“Kill you? Oh my dear, Harriet. I’m afraid I will have to decline your request for I could never do such a thing.” Voldemort’s strokes of her cheek, moved down to her neck. 

“Then what do you want?!” she growled out in frustration. The way he was touching her made her feel sick to her stomach. 

“I want you. little one.” 

“Stop calling me that!” 

“It suits you,” he said as she saw his head move in the corner of her eye, looking up and down her body. “So small, yet so powerful.”

Harriet was still desperately trying to look anywhere but him. “I don’t understand.” 

“I can show you,” his words reminiscent of the diary. 

The fingers that had been on her neck moved up to her face where this thumb started to brush against her lips. The touch was soft and gentle. It made her sick. Then he pushed the left side of her upper lip up slightly and stroked her canine. The gums started to ache. 

Harriet knew what he was doing. She had been terrified the day her fangs had come in. Forever thankful that she could make them retreat back. 

She couldn’t control the growth of her fangs with the attention Voldemort was giving them. 

_ $Yes,$  _ he hissed, “I never thought I would see them on another.” He paused, holding her jaw tightly to turn her head to look at him. “Look at me, little one.” 

Reluctantly, she turned her eyes that had up until now been looking everywhere but him. Blood eyes, a black slit parting them, bore into her own. Slowly but surely, his mouth widened in a manic smile revealing his fangs in all their horrifying glory. 

Without realising it, she stared at the fangs in morbid curiosity. They were longer than hers, glinting in the moonlight, though equally as sharp. With her lack of concentration her jaw went slack and Voldemort coaxed open her mouth so he could see her fangs clearly. Harriet was not sure how much time they spent looking at one another’s serpentine features. 

What shook her out of her trance was the sudden goosebumps appearing on her skin from it’s contact with the cool air. She yelped in realisation of his non verbal spell that vanished her clothes completely. The roughness of the stone pressed against her back was apparent. 

Her heart began to race, beating so hard she thought it might burst from her chest. Even if she managed to get away now, she would be completely naked. How degrading. Harriet would have never believed even he would go so low. 

“Shh, don’t be afraid, little one.”

Harriet could not help it, tears welled up in her eyes. Her mind lost in the rabbit hole of all the reasons he might undress her. First and foremost was humiliation. Whether that was humiliation in front of his death eaters, or by sending her back to Hogwarts, she had no idea. She had never been confident of her body. While she had watched as her peers chest’s grew and hips widened, she had stayed undeniably small. Not womanly. Petite, narrow, small chested. Harriet was almost sure this was thanks to a childhood of malnutrition. 

Everyone would laugh at her. 

“Why are you doing this to me?” she sobbed. 

Voldemort tilted his head slightly in confusion of her question. Their eyes locked together, and she felt a prod in her mind. 

“Oh no, my sweet, I didn’t undress you to humiliate you. You are far too special for that. Nobody but me will ever see you.”

“What?!” 

“Let me make you feel good.” He didn’t wait for a response before swiftly hooking his hands under her knees pushing them up and back against the stone. Voldemort must have cast some kind of wandless spell because her legs were stuck, the stone holding her body in place off of the floor. 

If she felt humiliated before, it was nothing to how she felt now, exposed, unable to cover herself from his increasingly lustful gaze. 

“Have you ever touched yourself, little one?” He hissed, eyes roaming her bound body. 

“What? No. Please stop this. Please let me go!” 

“No? Should I presume you are not aware of how special you really are?” 

“Please stop. Please don’t do this.” Her sobbing increased. In all her years since she had learned of Voldemort, she had never expected him to do a thing like this. Murder her, most certainly. Torture her, probably. Rape or anything sexual for that matter had ever crossed her mind. 

“I will teach you, little one. Relax. This won’t hurt, in fact it will feel very good. Could you be a good girl for me?” 

This was the most degrading moment of her life. He was speaking to her like some kind of child which only added another sick layer. 

“I know you saw me. You saw that I have two cocks. It is a trait of male parselmouths. When there were more of us, it was expected for us to be with a female parselmouth. You see only our female counterparts have the correct genitalia to accommodate us.” One on his fingers was trailing down her inner thigh that was held up painfully. “Do you know what I mean by that, little one?” 

“No. No. Please. Get off.” 

“It means, if I am not mistaken, you should have…” the finger that was roaming her body reached her centre, Harriet jerked at the contact. He rubbed her clit for a moment before moving down to where she knew she was wet. It made a wave of self-loathing wash over her. His finger moved from left to right a couple of times. “...yes! You do!” 

“I do what?” What on earth was he doing? What was he talking about? Was there something wrong with her? 

“You, my dear girl, have not one,” he said as he pushed a finger inside of her. The first thing to ever breach her body in such a manner. “But two!” he said as she pushed a second finger into another hole that was close but undeniably separate from the one he touched before. 

“What? Oh god. You’re lying,” she sobbed, denying what she knew to be the truth. 

Voldemort dropped down to be level with her exposed cunt. “You have no idea how special you are, do you?” he said in wonder as he worked his fingers back and forth. 

“Please! Stop!” Voldemort stilled his movements, before coming back to be face to face with her. Staring at her tear stained face. “Please don’t do this.” 

It was like Voldemort came back to himself. “Of course, little one. I’m sorry, I got carried away.” He removed his fingers from her, dropped the bindings that had been holding her legs, and summoned clothes back onto her body. “I didn’t mean to cause you any upset. I would not have hurt you. It seems my control slipped, forgive me, it has been a long time since I had a body of my own.” 

Harriet could barely comprehend that Voldemort had not only listened to her, eventually, but was now apologising. 

“Please let me go,” she pleaded. 

Voldemort considered her for a moment. 

“I will let you return back to Hogwarts safely if you sign this contract.” He waved a hand and a piece of parchment flew across the graveyard into his hand. “I had it drawn up when I knew you would be coming here tonight.” 

“And if I don’t sign it?” 

“Then I will have to take you with me. You would be safe. If you would prefer that, it is no bother to me. In fact I would prefer it, but I can see from your face that it might be too much too soon.” 

“What does the contract say? What’s the catch?” 

“It is a contract that ensures what happened here tonight stays between us both. Only one of my living death eaters know of my return. I intend for my return to stay a secret until the time is right. No catch, just a simple secrecy contract.”

“So where should I say I have been? They are going to notice I have been gone for ages.”

“You may say the cup was a portkey, it transported you to an unknown place. You thought it was still part of the task until you realised you were mistaken and used the portkey to return.” 

“And what about if I am asked about you?” 

“You have not seen me. You don’t understand what they are talking about.” 

“Dumbledore won’t believe me.” 

“Dumbledore is a very skilled legilimens along with Severus Snape. However, the contract protects the information being taken from your mind.” 

“What happens if I do tell someone?”

“You physically will not be able to tell anyone. Not verbally, written down, miming, legilimency, memory. It covers all bases.” 

“I want to read it first.” 

“Smart girl.” He waved his wand and black robes appeared on his body and he conjured an armchair which looked frankly ridiculous against the scenery. He grabbed her around the waist as the stone released her from it’s grip, and pulled her onto his lap, legs across his, on the armchair. 

Before she could complain about the seating arrangement, he popped the contract in her hands and healed her arm. “Shh, just read,” he said, unrelenting in his hold, pressing her against his firm chest. 

The fight had left her, she just wanted to be able to sign it and get back to Hogwarts, so she pushed away her discomfort and read. The contract was long, but thankfully not too complicated. It was everything he said it was going to be. During her time reading, she felt his eyes on her, studying her features. When he seemed satisfied that she wasn’t going to run, his grip loosened slightly and a hand brushed up and down her back. 

Harriet begrudgingly admitted to herself that it was comforting. 

Eventually, she finished the contract and sighed. It seemed legitimate. No loopholes that she could spot. Voldemort had summoned a red quill over. 

“Uh, don’t I need ink?” 

“No, for contracts, you sign it with a blood quill. Here I’ll do it first.” He took the contract from her hands, resting it on the arm of the chair and signing Tom Marvolo Riddle in fancy calligraphy. “Oh dear, it has been a while since I have used a quill, please excuse my handwriting,” he said, passing the quill to her. 

She frowned looking from his signature to him and back a couple of times. “If you think that is messy you are about to see something really special.” She signed her name in her usual scribbly handwriting. 

Voldemort raised his hairless eyebrows and blinked twice at her signature and exhaled in amusement fighting back a smile. “Perhaps my handwriting isn’t too bad afterall.” 

Since his hands had slacked around her waist she used it as an opportunity to stand up which he allowed. Harriet looked around the graveyard, wondering aloud, “where is my wand?”. 

“You’re a witch, little one. Summon it.” 

“I can’t summon things wandlessly, so unless you want to lend me yours… ah no need, I see it.” She walked over to the wand laying on the ground not too far from Wormtail's body. She stopped to look at it for a second. “I really wish you hadn’t done that.” 

Voldemort rose from the armchair to where she was standing. “Why? I did not predict you would mourn his death.” 

“Mourn?! Of course not. It’s just, him turning up alive would have been the best way for Sirius to be declared innocent.” Harriet sighed. “Anyway, I’m going to go now.” 

“Goodbye, little one. I will see you again soon.” 

Harriet didn’t know what to say back to that, so just nodded her head and walked towards the glowing trophy she could see a few metres away. 

“Oh, and Harriet.” She looked back over her shoulder. “Congratulations on winning the TriWizard Tournament.”

She gave him a half smile, though it didn’t reach her eyes, touched the trophy and she was sucked through time and space to land directly in the centre of the quidditch pitch to deafening applause. 


	2. Lucky

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been a little worried that the story might not go in the direction most people might have expected after the first chapter. This one has a much lighter feel and it will continue on as such. 
> 
> With that said, enjoy!

It had been over a year since the graveyard incident. 

She had managed to spin a convincing enough story to Dumbledore to fend off any suspicion about where she had been. 

Harriet had spent the entire summer after fourth year at the Dursleys, which was just as hellish as she had remembered. Nobody suspected Voldemort’s return as far as she could tell. She felt deeply guilty that she had signed a contract which gave him an opportunity for a surprise attack but what was done was done. 

Harriet hadn’t been sure what to make of it all. The things he said, the things he did. She had gone over them in painstaking detail and came to the same conclusion everytime. She was fucked. 

When she thought about where he had touched her, she internally shuddered. Though he had shown her how she differed from a normal person, she didn’t dare to feel for herself. It would have made it real. The freak that the Dursleys always told her she had been. However, Voldemort didn’t seem to think so. In fact, he was just as much of a ‘freak’ as her. It would have been nice knowing she wasn’t alone in that regard if it had been literally anyone other than the man that murdered her parents, countless others, and waged war in Britain. Add to that the numerous murder attempts on her over the years. 

Eventually, as time passed, the panic she felt faded, and the vivid details of that night in the graveyard dulled to a point where they did not bother her on a day-to-day basis.

Eventually, life went on as normal. Fifth year had turned out to be one of the most peaceful of her entire time at Hogwarts. Umbridge was an awful teacher (if she even qualified as one given her refusal to teach anything practical) but Harriet, for the most part, was left alone. She hadn’t seen too much of Dumbledore either. 

Harriet had floated the idea in her head that maybe she had merely hallucinated the return of Voldemort because there was no talk of him, no raids, nothing. If there had been, the daily prophet had not been reporting it. 

The only difference was the dreams she had been having occasionally. 

Dreams of Voldemort. They ranged from innocent and affectionate, to downright dirty and sexual. She had been far too scared to voice this to anyone since she didn’t want people to abandon her, believing her to be a freak to be dreaming about her parent’s murderer in such a way. Even when in the mornings she woke up a horny mess, she ignored the feeling in her groin and took a shower instead. 

The summer after fifth year passed in the same kind of blur the last did. Endless chores and boredom. She had been left without any news over the summer, no letters from anyone. Harriet had been getting increasingly irritated as the weeks drew on. She thought about calling Dobby to see if he had been intercepting her letters again but decided against it in the end. 

Two weeks before term she was picked up from Privet Drive by Lupin, Tonks, Shacklebolt, and Moody (the real one, as it turns out the last had been a fake). They took her to Grimmauld Place, Sirius’ house. As it transpired the reason for her friends' silence was because shortly after term had finished, Voldemort had announced his return. He did this with a group of death eaters that had been declared dead months prior in Azkaban. They had been swapped out for fakes. Nobody knew how he was back. They had all presumed he managed to get one of his already free followers to help him regain a body. They weren’t wrong, but they didn’t guess it had been Wormtail and that she had been present. 

September rolled around and she was back at Hogwarts, the morning after the opening feast. Harriet, Hermione, Ron, and Neville were all sitting together eating breakfast when the owls swooped in to deliver their mail. Everyone Harriet wrote to was either sitting around her, or she had seen a couple of days ago so she wasn’t expecting anything. That is why, when a black owl landed next to her, she looked around in confusion. More than just her friend's eyes were on her, the bird had attracted the attention of surrounding tables too. Attached to the owls leg was a small package. She took it from the owl, placing it on the table and returning it to its original size. It was a simple deep purple box. 

“Uh, Harriet. Is that a courting gift?” Neville asked unsurely. 

“What?!” exclaimed Ron and Hermione in unison. Their little outburst attracted even more attention, even so far as the Slytherin table. 

Harriet shrugged her shoulders, and opened the box. Inside was a beautiful white gold bangle that had two snakes intertwined. It didn’t take a genius to figure out who this was from. Flipping the lid down quickly, she looked straight ahead, trying not to dissolve into hysterical laughter. Because that’s what this was, right? A joke. 

Marry him. He wanted her to marry him. No matter how he acted in that graveyard, surely he didn’t actually want to marry her. Did he genuinely think she was going to accept? 

So many questions were flooding through her mind that she barely registered the numerous questions from those surrounding her, and the others eavesdropping. 

“Harriet, do you know who that’s from?” Hermione asked worriedly. 

Suddenly, Harriet was reminded of how Hermione acted when Sirius had sent her a firebolt anonymously. Knowing she couldn’t let a professor look at what was in this box, she hurriedly grabbed it and stood up. “Yes, I know who it is from, don’t worry. It’s just a joke.” she said, while hurrying away out of the hall, closely watched by students and professors alike. 

***

As expected, nobody left her alone about the courting gift. She brushed them off. Her cover story was that she had kept in touch with a couple of the Durmstrang boys who had sent her it as a joke. Even when Dumbledore had pulled her aside about it, she said that it was just a silly misjudged joke and after her insistence, he did not ask her about it again. Whether he believed her was another matter. 

The dreams kept occurring, except now they felt slightly different. They were more intense somehow. More possessive, like there was a deeper yearning there, though she couldn’t figure out why. 

Dumbledore had started to show her memories from Voldemort’s past, the first being the memory of his parents. The subsequent information Dumbledore had told her regarding how Voldemort came into the world was so utterly tragic for everyone involved. When he said that since Voldemort was conceived under a love potion, that he cannot feel love, she was slightly skeptical. Anyone who was conceived under that potion surely did not have a stable, loving home to grow up in since the conception amounted to nothing more than rape.

She was right. The next memory she was shown was of an eleven year old Voldemort in an orphanage, not exactly a loving environment. Dumbledore setting his wardrobe on fire was unprofessional at best. Though she could not deny that Voldemort most likely would not have turned out much different even if he had been raised by loving parents. 

Then she showed him a memory that Slughorn had altered from when Voldemort was in school. Dumbledore wanted her to get the real memory from Slughorn. With Hermione and Ron’s encouragement she took the felix felicis that she had won earlier in the year and set off from the Gryffindor common room under her invisibility cloak. She had a good feeling about being under the cloak. 

The feeling was proven correct when she passed several professors on patrol. 

She exited the castle and stood for a second. Harriet knew that Slughorn would be down near the greenhouses. But she had a better feeling about going out of the front gates. 

So she did. Luckily, they were wide open. She leisurely made her way up to Hogsmeade and into the Three Broomsticks. Tapping her fingers, looking around wondering what to do, still hidden from sight, she decided to go a little further afield. She didn’t even have a destination in mind when she threw a handful of floo powder (that she had swiped from behind the bar) into the fireplace and in a last minute decision said “Malfoy Manor.”

Why did she do that? The nagging part of her mind was screaming that it was a bad idea, but it didn’t even come close to the feeling the potion was giving her. 

Stumbling into an excessively grand entrance hall she stood for a moment just taking it all in. No wonder Draco was such a smarmy git with a home like this.

A second later Lucius Malfoy appeared at the door of the entrance hall, and looked around in confusion. “ _ Homenum revelio, _ ” he cast with a wave of his wand. Her stomach dropped, desperately racking her brain to figure out how she was going to explain why she was here. Even she didn’t know why she was here. 

However, the spell didn’t turn anything up and that seemed to be enough for Lucius to presume it must have been a mistake. 

Figuring that she might as well have a look around while she was here, she followed him out of the door and had a little exploration of the manor. A few corridors later, turning left and right randomly, she had no idea where she was in relation to the entrance hall anymore. She came across a set of double doors and had a really good feeling about knocking. So she did. 

Knock. Knock. Knock. 

“Enter,” sounded a sibilant voice from inside. 

She opened the door and silently entered. None other than Voldemort himself was sitting at his desk in a very grand study. He frowned at what must look like an empty doorway to him. He flicked his wrist and the door shut with a bang. He also cast the human revealing charm that turned up nothing. Must be the cloak. 

Feeling sneaky, she walked silently around his desk to a set of drawers behind him and hopped up. Luckily, it didn’t creak under her weight. She let the cloak slip off her shoulders to reveal herself and sat back. 

Harriet watched him for a moment or two. He looked exactly the same as he had in the graveyard. Pale, skin almost scaly, flat nose, and trademark black robes. He was reading and making notes on some documents, sighing every now and then. 

He muttered under his breath, “Imbeciles, can’t do anything right. Have to do everything myself.” 

Why did she feel so confident all of a sudden? In a normal speaking volume, Harriet said, “That sucks.” 

He spun around flinging a stunning spell at her face which was aborted last second and hit the wall to the side of her head. She looked at the spot on the wall and then back at Voldemort who was standing with his jaw slack. “Do you greet everyone with a stunning spell?” 

“Just the ones that somehow sneak into my study…”

“A fair policy,” she conceded. 

“How are you here? Why are you here?” 

“Uh floo, and I don’t know. I had a good feeling about it,” she said with a nonchalant shrug.

He gave her an incredulous look. “A good feeling?” 

“I won a felix felicis potion.” 

“And you had a good feeling about coming here?” 

“Yes, the original plan was to speak to Slughorn, you know him, about you actually, like Dumbledore wanted… but I had a better feeling about being here.”

“May I ask what exactly you were going to ask Slughorn about in regards to myself?” 

“Slugs gave Dumbledore a fake memory of you and he wanted the real one.” 

“What happened in this fake memory?” 

“Hmmm…” Seriously, there must have been something else in the luck potion because she also felt fully confident and almost, dare she say, playful? “I’ll act it out. Can I borrow your wand?” 

Voldemort looked at her like she was stupid. “You want to borrow my wand?” 

“Yeah, I’m not going to do anything with it, but I think I will be able to channel a better teenage you if I am holding it. Here, we can swap if you're so worried!” she said, holding out her own wand. 

Looking very skeptical, Voldemort took out his own wand and they swapped. “What is your wand, little one?” 

“Holly and phoenix feather, the brother wand to yours… they feel so similar don’t they!” Harriet answered rolling his yew wand in her fingers feeling the warmth and recognition run through it though a slight resistance that she doesn’t have with her own holly wand. 

“Of course you have the brother wand,” Voldemort said, playing with her wand in a similar fashion. 

“Anyway, back to business! You have to tell me when you have guessed what memory it is, ok?” Harriet ordered as she hopped up from where she was sat. She wasn’t sure where all this confidence was coming from, but the potion was urging her on so she didn’t question it. 

Voldemort sat in his desk chair elegantly, leg folded over the other, a hairless eyebrow raised at her antics, still twirling her wand. 

Harriet stood up straight, took a cleansing breath, put on her best haughty expression, and twirled the yew wand in her hands. Clearing her throat she attempted an impression of a young Tom Riddle. “I was in the library the other day, in the restricted section.” Voldemort's face dropped, but since he didn’t say anything she went on. “And I read something rather odd about a rare bit of magic. It’s called as I understand it, muffled muffled muffled” 

She plonked herself down on the chair opposite his desk, and concluded, “Dumbledore wants to know what you asked Slughorn about. After the muffled part it just shows Slughorn yelling at you to get out, but that looked fake…. I’m guessing by that expression on your face you know what the memory is.” 

Voldemort was staring blankly ahead, wand still in his hands. Harriet waited patiently for him to come back to himself inspecting the strange trinkets on his desk to pass the time.

“I know the memory you were referring to…” Voldemort responded slowly, “I’m glad you came here and told me this. Please delay Dumbledore from getting the actual memory. At least until I check on a few things.”

“Can I know what you asked about?” 

“It is safer for you to remain ignorant.” Voldemort shook off the worried calculating look and returned his focus to Harriet. “Did you receive my gift, little one?”

“Yes,” Harriet answered, “I have a bone to pick with you about that.” 

“Oh?” 

“What the hell were you thinking?” Harriet asked without any real bite, exasperated more than anything. 

“It is the way to initiate courting.” 

“But, why on earth would you want to court me? Is it just some kind of joke that I don’t understand?” 

“Little one, I want to court you for many reasons. Namely, you are a powerful, beautiful, intelligent, young woman, who shares my inherited traits.” 

“We don’t even know one another. I’m not even sure what name to call you right now.” 

“You may call me Tom.” 

“Really?” That caught her off guard. “I presumed you were going to insist on ‘my Lord’.”

“No, that is too formal for you.”

Harriet nodded slowly, a confused expression on her face, digesting the turn in conversation. She leant back in her seat, allowing the silence. 

“Little one?” 

“Yeah?” When on earth had she started responding to that blasted nickname?

“I am sorry about what I did to you in the graveyard. I was not in a sound state of mind, though that doesn’t excuse my actions.” 

“It’s ok. Feels like so long ago now.” If she was being honest, she could tell at the time that he had been a bit delirious so didn’t hate him as much as she would have done otherwise. 

“It does.” He paused for a moment. “Out of interest, forgive me if I am overstepping here, have you explored your body since?” 

Harriet flushed bright red. She hadn’t touched herself, but suddenly all the dreams that she had been having played like a montage reel in her mind. In every one, the subject matter was the man in front of her. In her dreams they had kissed, cuddled, and fucked in every sense of the word. She could hear every filthy word that dream Tom had ever whispered in her ear. Harriet was still a virgin so she wasn’t even sure how her brain had come up with most of it. 

The potion within her had a good feeling about answering the question honestly, so she pushed aside her embarrassment and answered, “Nope.”

“Forgive me, little one, but that is rather unusual for a sixteen year old.” 

Harriet felt damned if she did and damned if she didn’t. Aunt Petunia had been clear, girls should not touch themselves in such a disgusting manner, especially not now she knew how much of a freak she was down there. At this moment, sitting in Voldemort’s study, she felt embarrassed for  _ not _ doing it. 

“I don’t think girls are supposed to do that,” she settled on in the end.

“Have you never felt aroused and wanted to touch yourself? Had fantasies or dreams about what you want others to do to you?” 

“I ignore them.” 

“Masturbation is nothing to feel shame about, little one. It’s perfectly natural for men and women. It’s a good way to explore your body. I recommend you try it.” 

Harriet shook her head. “I wouldn’t even know what to do anyway, there’s no point.” 

“The point is that it feels good, little one. Female orgasms are thought to be much stronger than a male orgasm. I could show you how to touch yourself if you are unsure?” 

Much to Harriet’s horror, the potion within her was making her have a good feeling about this. Finding it hard to resist, she nodded her head at Tom who looked beyond pleased with her answer. 

“Come with me, little one.” He stood and held out a hand to Harriet. “Trust me.” 

Harriet accepted the hand which she had thought was just to help her up, but he kept hold of it as he led her to a door on the left side of his study. Upon entering, she realised that it was a bedroom. One of the fanciest bedrooms she had ever seen in her life. The four-poster bed was huge, covered in black silk sheets. She started to shake slightly from anticipation, having no idea what he had planned. 

“It would be best if you are naked, little one. Do you mind me undressing you?” 

“Will you be naked too?” 

“I can be if you want me to be.” 

Harriet shook her head. She was already feeling nervous about herself being naked in front of him, she didn’t want to have to watch where she was looking too. 

“No problem, little one. This is about you. May I?” Voldemort reached out questioningly to the school shirt she had on. Harriet nodded in acceptance. He pulled off her tie and unbuttoned her shirt from top to bottom, pushing it gently off her shoulders, revealing her plain black bra underneath. Goosebumps appeared across her entire body, tingling with anticipation. That familiar sensation in her groin was there like it is after those dreams. 

He easily unhooked the clasp to her skirt and let it drop to the floor. Voldemort, holding her by the waist, pushed her to sit on the edge of the bed. He leant down to remove her shoes and knee socks. Thank god she had shaved this morning. That left her in just her underwear. Hands reached out and brushed across the waist band to her knickers, hooking a finger in the sides and dragging them down while Harriet lifted herself up slightly to help. Leaning back up, he reached around and unhooked her bra revealing the small perky breasts underneath, her nipples as hard as glass. 

“Well done, little one. Come and sit with me.” Voldemort said as he placed himself on his bed leaning with his back against the headboard. He opened his legs and patted the space between him. When she crawled onto the bed towards the space he referred to before, he helped her into position. Her back leant against his chest, legs hooked over his which he used to pull her legs up and further apart. If someone were to stand in front of her she would be completely exposed to them. Thankfully, it made her feel better that Tom was behind her so she couldn’t really see him, only feel the warmth of his hard chest, the breath on her ear, and the hands that were resting on her stomach. 

“First, you should play with your breasts,” he said as his hands manoverd hers to her chest, one hand on each and helped her get a kneading motion going. Encouraging her to pinch, roll, and tease her nipples. Harriet could see why people liked doing that, it felt quite pleasant. It made the sensation inside her get stronger. “Does that feel nice, little one?” 

“Yes,” Harriet said, though it came out breathier than she had expected. Her head leaned back on his shoulder, continuing to play with her breasts. Tom's hands had moved back to her stomach, stroking with his thumbs gently. 

“Keep playing with your nipples with your left hand. Now move this right hand down your body.” She complied until she hesitated as she approached her centre. “It’s ok, little one. Touch yourself. Tell me, are you wet down there?” 

Harriet moved her hand further down until her fingers brushed past her clitoris, and in between the folds which were soaking wet. “Oh, yes. Really wet, is that ok?”

“Yes, little one. That is very good, it means you are feeling aroused. You could even have a little taste of it if you want?” 

Harriet, feeling curious, did just that, bringing her hand up to her mouth and licking the tips of her fingers. 

“How does it taste?” Tom’s voice was getting huskier and huskier as time went on. It was as if he was enjoying this just as much as she was. 

“Uh, sweet but a bit musty. Is that right?”

“Yes, little one. Now, return your fingers back to where they were and spread some of that wetness to your clitoris. You know where that is?”

“Yes,” she said, following his instructions. She was so surprised by how wet she was, it was so slippery that she had no problem coating her clitoris and rubbing it in circles. A small moan escaped her lips, and she tensed slightly hoping he hadn’t noticed.

“Don’t hold back your moans, little one. It’s just me and you here, don’t be shy. Does that feel good, the way you are rubbing yourself?” 

“Yes,” she answered in response to his question but it came out more like a moan.

“You can try out different paces. Some women like it slower, some faster, it’s all down to preference. Don’t forget to keep teasing your nipples.” The last part made her realise she had stopped moving her left hand somewhere along the way. Resuming her teasing and changing paces with her rubbing she found her rhythm. Before long, she was letting out small moans and her breathing had deepened and become slightly ragged. “Soon you might start to feel tension building in your body, that is good, keep doing whatever it is that makes you feel that way.”

Harriet couldn’t manage any words so just nodded her head. A small amount of time passed with her trying out different movements and paces.

“Speak to me, little one. How does it feel?”

“Good… uh… really good… I think I can feel that tension st… ah… oh my god... “ 

“You are doing so well, little one, keep going, you are getting close to an orgasm.”

“Ah… it’s too much…” 

“Keep going, little one.” 

“Uh… ah….” her legs were starting to shake from the pressure, he breathing faltered, and the tension building up to an unbearable amount until pleasure crashed into her rolling over like waves making her body jerk as she rode out the orgasm. Eventually the pleasure ebbed away leaving her in a peaceful haze slumped against the body behind her. 

She realised that during her orgasm her fangs had appeared and a bit of venom spilled into her mouth which she swallowed before Tom noticed. 

“Well done, little one. That was your first orgasm. How did it feel?” he said, one hand on her stomach while the other carded through her hair. 

“I can’t believe I have been missing out for so long.” She moved her hand up from her core to rest on her stomach, legs still splayed wide open but having no energy to move them. 

Tom huffed in amusement. “I guess you will just have to make up for lost time.” He pecked the top of her head, and leant back also not giving any indication that she should move. So she didn’t, she just lay with him for a little while until she regained her energy a few minutes later. 

“Will it be better if I put my fingers inside me or just the same?” Harriet asked suddenly. 

“Only you could know the answer to that.”

Harriet was silent for a moment. “Tom?” 

“Yes, little one?” 

“Were you turned on from watching me? Is that what I can feel pressing into me?” 

“Yes, I’m afraid I will have to do something about it. It’s harder for men to just ignore their arousal.” 

“Oh, sorry, do you need me to leave?” 

“No, you can help me if you want.”

“How can I do that?” 

“You could touch yourself again, or you could help touch me.”

Harriet considered her options, but was curious enough to take the latter. “Can I help you?” 

“Of course. Why don’t you undress me this time, little one?” 

Harriet moved into a kneeling position between his legs facing him. As soon as she looked at him, he captured her jaw in his hand, staring at the fangs visible in her mouth. She let him look while she reached out to undo the ties keeping his black robes together. He sat forward and dropped his hand from her face to allow the robe to slip off his shoulders. She moved back to give her space to open the robe completely and then pull down his underwear. 

He sat back watching Harriet inspect his body. Hairless, but surprisingly toned chest and arms. Her eyes trailed down until they landed on his erections. She stared in wonder. 

“How are they supposed to fit in someone? They are huge.” She internally conceded that she had nothing to compare them to so she didn’t know how he measured up in comparison. 

“I’ll take that as a compliment,” smiled Tom. 

“So what now? Do you do the same things I do?”

“Mostly, yes,” he answered, moving both of his hands to grip the base of each cock. Harriet was entranced as he began moving his hands up and down, sometime in sync, sometimes in opposite directions. Every now and then he stopped to tease the end of them. 

“They are leaking,” she observed. 

“It’s called pre-cum, little one. It just means I’m starting to get close to my orgasm.” 

“Does it happen at the same time, or are they separate?” 

“Why don’t you wait and see.”

So that is what Harriet did, she sat back and watched, completely naked, the man in front of her pleasure himself. All the while, he was staring at her. It was almost nice to know he was looking at her and able to get himself off. Perhaps she wasn’t as unattractive as she believed. 

His movements became faster and erratic. A few more pumps in time with one another and, with a groan, ropes of white liquid were shooting out of both simultaneously. They splattered onto his stomach. 

She noted that his fangs had come out too. 

“Do people taste men’s cum like how I tasted mine?” 

“Try a bit, little one, and tell me what you think,” he said, still out of breath. 

She reached forward and ran her fingers through the pool of cum on his stomach and brought them up to her mouth. “Hmm.. kind of salty but a similar muskiness. I think I prefer yours.” 

Tom exhaled in amusement. “Your innocence is refreshing.” He waved a hand to clean himself up and reached out to stroke her cheek with his thumb, and sat up so they were face to face. 

It was intense, this kind of closeness. His red eyes locked on her own. She could imagine that a lot of people might not find him attractive with the serpentine features he had, but the longer she was here, the more she thought they were attractive. Striking. 

Harriet could feel his breath fanning her lips. She wanted to kiss him. She had a good feeling that it would be received well. Fuck it. She leant in and connected their lips. 

He immediately moved his hand to grip her neck, and her hands found themselves on his chest. It was Tom who licked her lip gently which she took as a request to open her mouth, and she was right as he then explored her mouth with his tongue. Harriet moaned into the kiss, enjoying the light dizzy feeling it gave her. 

His tongue swept over her fangs. Upon feeling the venom drip from them, she pulled back suddenly saying, “The venom... “

“We are both immune to each other's venom. Don’t worry, little one,” he replied breathily and reconnected their lips. 

They remained this way for a while longer until she was running out of breath and pulled away though they remained close, their attention still firmly focused on the other. 

“How do you know all this stuff about being a parselmouth?” 

“Did you not read the books in Slytheirn’s library in the Chamber of Secrets?”

“Uh, no. I haven’t been back down there since second year.” 

“Well, there are many books on parselmouths. That is how I know about all this  _ stuff.”  _ He maneuvered her to sit across his lap like how she was in the graveyard. Harriet leant into him resting her head in the crook of his neck while he stroked her hair. She wasn’t sure at what point they had become comfortable enough to sit in this way together. She hadn’t seen him since she was fourteen. “Have you thought any more about my gift?” 

“I know it’s a courting gift, but what does that mean exactly? Is it a proposal?” 

“Not exactly. A courting gift is a way of showing interest. If accepted, a period of courting begins in which the two people get to know one another. If all goes well and the two wish to marry, a betrothal contract is signed.”

“How would that work? We can’t be seen together and neither of us are exactly inconspicuous.” 

Tom hummed, as if thinking about her words. “Do you still view me as your enemy, little one?” 

“...I suppose not.” She was currently say naked on his lap, hardly a fighting stance. 

“Good, because we are not enemies. No matter the efforts that might try to convince you otherwise. Make your decision based on what you want, we can figure the rest out later, together.” 

Harriet thought on his words. When was the last time she had ever made a decision based purely on what she wanted? Without considering what other people would say or do. Thinking on it, everything she had ever done in life was to please the people she so desperately wanted praise from. Dumbledore especially. Maybe she could be selfish just this once. It was only getting to know one another, right? What was the harm in that?

“Ok, I accept your gift. I’ll put it on when I get back,” she decided. “Speaking of, I probably should get back before someone notices I’m gone.”

Tom angled her head up to look at him. “Thank you, little one,” he said before leaning into another kiss which lasted longer than either of them expected it to. 

Harriet and Tom got themselves dressed and walked out into his study where she collected her invisibility cloak, which she threw over her shoulders while she walked by his side towards the entrance hall. 

“I’ll apparate you back, will you be alright getting to Hogwarts from Hogsmeade?”

“Yes, though could you apparate near the shrieking shack?” 

“Why there?” 

“Because it’s quieter and I can just go through the tunnel back to school.” 

“The tunnel?” 

“Yes, it comes out at the base of the whomping willow. It was made for when Lupin was at school for the full moons.”

“Ah I see. Is this tunnel well known? Does it lead straight into the shrieking shack?” 

“Yes, the door is inside the shack. And I doubt anyone knows about it. Most people don’t know how to get past the willow and are too scared to go into the shrieking shack.”

“I think the issue of a meeting place has been solved,” he said while holding out his arm. She grabbed it and reappeared directly inside the shrieking shack. Upon landing, she stumbled and would have fallen flat on her bum had Tom not managed to catch her and put her back on her feet. “You will get better at landing, it is easier when you are the one controlling it.” 

“I doubt it, I still tumble out of fireplaces, and don’t even get me started on portkeys.”

Tom raised an eyebrow, obviously amused at the thought, but did not say anything more of the subject. “Where is the entrance to the tunnel?”

They had landed in the hallway so she led him into what was supposed to be some kind of living room where the silver door was. 

“Without the obviously well brewed felix felicis, are you able to sneak out without being detected?” 

“Yes, after curfew would be easiest.” 

“Meet me here on Saturday next week after curfew.” 

“I probably won’t be able to get out until ten without raising suspicion.” 

“That works for me.” Tom approached her, hands on either side of her face. “Have fun making up for lost time, little one,” he said smirking. Then he kissed her on the lips gently, stood back and was gone with a crack. 

Harriet stood like a statue for a good ten minutes, willing away the redness that had crept up on her face, and wondering what the hell had happened this evening. It was just past eleven. What was she going to say she had been doing for the past couple of hours? 

Luckily, it was not the first time she had to think up a cover story on short notice. 


End file.
